MyselfAlone
by byronsar
Summary: It was three in the morning when Garcia heard the gunshot. At first, Garcia thought she had woken from a dream, but then she heard the sound of something heavy being thrown to the ground just beyond her living room wall... -Reid torture fanfic-
1. Chapter 1

**Remember to R & R**

It was three in the morning when Garcia heard the gunshot.

It hadn't been a particularly eventful day up until that moment, when she was awoken from her sleep by the noise. Her beautiful, restless sleep that she had been longing for since two days beforehand. There had been a case called in about three siblings in Memphis, an older sister and two younger brothers, who had been kidnapped and bargained for ransom. The case had lasted almost two days- nearly 46 hours, and Garcia hadn't gotten a wink in since. The kids were safe, being held in a foster home just outside of their hometown after the unsub killed their mother. No one was seriously hurt besides her, which was also good, but she didn't really care about any of that. She was happy, of course she was, but she just needed to sleep. 46 hours of digging through dirt on suspects could do that to a girl.

So, when Garcia got to her small but colorful flat, the first thing she did was belly flop onto her bed. Before she knew it, she was being startled awake by her worse nightmare.

At first, Garcia thought she had woken from a dream she couldn't remember, maybe one of the usual ones that end in flying bullets, but then she heard the sound of something heavy being thrown to the ground just beyond her living room wall, followed by some oddly quickened footsteps rushing away from the scene. She sat there for a minute, wondering if this was all some practical joke that the team was playing on her. She would almost have believed it too, if it wasn't for the eerie silence that remained in the hallway. Garcia half contemplated calling Morgan and telling him that something was wrong, but what if it really was nothing? What if her paranoia was just getting the best of her, as it sometimes does after an exceptionally long case? Garcia let out a sort of muffled sign, her eyes never once moving from her door, which was particularly masked by her lavender and blue meadow curtains that she hadn't bothered to shut all the way the previous night. She sat like that for nearly a minute before her eyes flickered to the crack underneath her door. It was nothing, her half conscious brain chided. Go back to sleep. But she couldn't, she just knew there was something wrong.

She shifted her position to where her torso was still facing the door, but her legs hung off the bed. She felt for her purple teddy bear slippers blindly, praying to God that something wouldn't reach out from under her bed and grab her ankle. She rummaged in her bedside drawer, feeling for Morgan's spare gun he had left for her protection. She frowned slightly, as the only things she could feel were her silver dolphin earrings and a half-full12-pack of fluffy pencils.

It seemed that Garcia was going blind into this, which was probably not a good idea, since the only tactical thing she'd ever done was screech at a Puerto Rican man in Montreal for steeling her special zebra striped purse.

She slowly stood from her position on the bed. "Okay Penelope, you can do this," She assured herself. "It's fine, no one's going to blitz attack you from behind or shoot you in the head because that's just stupid. Why would someone try to kill an FBI agent? It's not like we're valuable or anything. We, especially I don't know any secrets about people's personal lives, including ones people don't even know about themselves." She trailed off, leaving it to only her mind to chide herself. _You don't know what you're doing, Penelope. This is stupid, just go back to your bed. You're tired, you need sleep, this will all be over with in the morning._

Garcia gulped, a thin stream of sweat forming on her hairline. She was scared, not just for herself, but for whoever just got murdered outside her door. _Now you're just overreacting. You've been standing here for nearly five minutes, if anything, you'd be the one responsible for letting someone die if they just bleed out onto floor._ Her conscience was right, she needed to see if someone need help before it was too late.

She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. _It'll only get better if you help it get better._ She took a shaky step forward and, once figuring out that she was capable of actually moving, began making her way toward the door.

She layed her hand on the doorknob, suddenly becoming very much aware of what she was about to do. She really wished Morgan was here. Her knight is shining armor. If he was here, she could stay curled up in her bed, surrounded by stuffed animals and velvet blankets, but instead, she had to dive right into a possible murder case and get her beautiful hands dirty.

She twisted the doorknob only halfway, flinching instinctively. Nothing exploded. No one shot her. This was good, so far.

Garcia then turned the hinge the remaining half and inched the door open. But whatever bravery she had in her at the time immediately vanished as something heavy fell at her feet. It must have been leaning up against her door before she opened it. Garcia stared straight ahead, trying not to look down at what had just fell at her feet, but she had to. She had to be brave.

She looked down.

 _Oh my god._

It was nearly 9 am when Morgan rolled out of bed that morning. It'd been so long since he'd actually gotten a full ten hours of sleep. So long in fact, that instead of waking up easily like he thought he would, he woke with a start, thinking something was seriously wrong and he should've been in the round table room at least an hour and a half ago.

But no, Hotch had told them all the day before that they'd be able to sleep in today, as they usually get to do after long cases. It would seem that Hotch stuck to his word too, as Morgan didn't even get a phone call until forty-five minutes later when he was making his morning cup of coffee. It was JJ.

"Hey JJ, what do you need?" Morgan was light hearted today, that was for sure. Not having to get up at 6 in the morning, and not hearing from Hotch. Since it was JJ calling him, it couldn't be a case, that's for sure.

"Morgan." Morgan's stomach dropped at the sound of her voice. It sounded so heavy and uncharacteristic to her. He put down his cup. "JJ? What happened?"

She paused, sniffling a bit on the other end. "We're at Garcia's. Can you be here in fifteen minutes? It's... urgent."

Morgan's spine straighten, his eyebrows furrowing. "What... Is Garcia alright? Is she hurt? Oh god, is she...?"

"No! No, oh god no." She replied a little too quickly. "Well, I mean, she's a bit shaken up, an-and she keeps saying she won't tell anyone but you what happened-"

"What happened?"

"-but other than that she's fine."JJ paused, sighing at the other end. "Derek, we have a problem."

"Well I figured that much JJ, but-"

"It's Spence."

Morgan's breath caught in his throat.

"Wha-"

"Please hurry."

The line died on the other end, leaving Morgan flustered, confused, and most of all, worried.

 **Hey guys!**

 **For all of you who've been following my writing for the past couple years, you may have noticed my pretty dramatic switch in story topics. It's been a while since I've posted anything on Fanfiction because of my near permanent move to Wattpad. (p.s. please, if you haven't already done so, follow me on Wattpad as well. Same username.) I mean, I'm already a sophomore guys, how crazy is that? I figured that if I want to make myself someone in the writing community, I should maximize my reader count as much as possible. So, this story (at the time of writing this, I haven't picked a name for it yet) will also be on Wattpad. If you want a more professional reading experience, you can read that one.**

 **This opening chapter is meant to capture your attention. It is in no way meant to tell the entire story, so I hope you didn't expect an exceptionally long chapter. If you like where this is going, please comment your opinion on whether or not I should continue, and if you have any suggestions on my writing style, please comment those as well.**

 **Thank you!**

 **\- Byronsar**


	2. Chapter 2

**Remember to R & R**

Morgan rolled up to Garcia's apartment complex, surprise to see not only the city police lurking out front, but also the paramedics and CSI. He hurried out of the car, spotting JJ outside talking to who looked to be to Sheriff, and sped off to meet her. She caught his eyes half way down the sidewalk and shooed off the Sheriff. He said is goodbyes, and turned away, to which JJ's fake smile disappeared, replaced by a grimace. She looked down at her feet, and brushed a piece of hair back behind her ear.

"JJ, what happened?" Morgan asked. He was more focused on understanding the situation than her demeanor.

She sniffled, her eyes turning a faint shade of red before looking up at Morgan. She began slowly, as if figuring out the right words. "It was maybe three-thirty in the morning. I was with Henry. He-he was having a rough night, couldn't fall back to sleep." She exhaled shakily. "So-so, I was reading him a story- Baby Star, his favorite. But then my phone rings, and I thought _maybe we have another case_ , but it was Garcia. Heh-" JJ let out a nervous chuckle. "-looking back on it now, I'm surprised she didn't call you first." She paused. Her gaze had moved from Morgan to the concrete pavement. Her breaths were unsynchronized. "She told me how she heard something outside her door, and she went to see what it was and-" JJ rubbed her eyes. "-and she found a body."

Before Morgan could reply, Hotch ran up to them. "The medics are finished cleaning up. CSI's coming in now if you want to follow me." He looked towards Morgan. "I think Garcia wants to see you." He sped off, followed by the two agents.

They scaled the stairs, making it to Garcia's floor in under a minute. Hotch and JJ both took off down the hallway, but Morgan halted for a moment. Three or four paramedics came walking towards him, pushing a gurney topped with a plump body bag. Morgan's eyes follow the bag as it made its way for the elevators. His eyebrows furrowed and his mind shifted between the possibilities of what could be inside, one being a bit more upstanding than the rest. He shook his head, then made his way down the hall.

As soon as he walked through the door, Morgan was tackled by none other than the bubbly beauty herself. "Oh my god, Derek, Derek, I- I was just-"Penelope stroked Morgan's head, squeezing him so tight he could barely breath. "-and then, oh my _god_ Derek, it was right _there_..." She erupted into a fit of sobs before Derek even had the chance to understand what was happening. "Shh, shh, it's okay, it'll be okay. Shh, baby girl..." Morgan grabbed Garcia's shoulders gently, pushing her back a few inches so he could see her face, and breath. "Penelope-" Just before he could start his sentence, a disgruntled looking Hotch walked in from another room. "Morgan, I need to speak with you. Garcia, JJ is making some tea for you if you would like to join her in the kitchen." Garcia glanced at Morgan, a saddened look on her face, before making her way out of the room.

Hotch motioned for Derek to follow him, and the two went into a separate room. It was the dining room, but the table had been pressed against the far wall, with a whiteboard leaning against it. Rossi sat in a chair opposite the board, rubbing his temple as if he had a headache. Blake stood in front of the board. She had already made a few markings on it, but they looked to be far fetched thoughts; she was thinking about something else.

Everyone was in the apartment, except-

Hotch closed the door behind him, then turned to face Morgan. He motioned to an extra chair. "Have a seat." Derek did as told, still very confused about what was happening. Hotch sat across from him, and seeing that both Blake and Rossi were in their own worlds, they seemed to be in a simulated isolation. "Morgan," Hotch started. "I need you to know that I respect you and understand that you are an important piece to this team." Morgan frowned. "Of course I do, Hotch, but what-" He stopped mid-sentence at the Unit Chief's stare. "I need you to know that I meant for you to be notified after I and the rest of the team investigated, only because it's important to this case." By this point, Morgan had no idea what Hotch was saying, but nodded. "Okay then," Hotch leaned back in his chair and sighed. He pulled an evidence bag from his blazer pocket and handed it to Morgan. He gave a confused look towards Hotch, before turning over what looked to be an old piece of printer paper, cut down to about 6"x 7". On the front, Morgan spotted words written in a blue calligraphy pen. He read:

 _To which this figure belong,_

 _And to thee to find the note,_

 _We grateful for this gift,_

 _That you have provided,_

 _The smarts, the looks,_

 _But incapable of one,_

 _A love._

Morgan frowned, reading the note again. He looked up. "What is this?"

Hotch hesitated for a moment, before saying, "It came with the body. More importantly, William Reid's body."

-(O-O)-

 _The Day Before_

It was a cold afternoon; fresh snow had just started to fall, covering the streets with a sheet of thin shimmery white. From where he sat, Spencer Reid had a eye on everyone in the park. Small children wrapped up in layers of fabric ran around joyfully, throwing lumpy snowballs at their friends. Young mothers and babysitters scrapped snow off benches so they could sit and take candid photos of their kids. A slightly older girl, no more than twelve, ran around the swing set with a smaller version of herself. It was only when her younger sister fell over and got a mouth full of dirt, did they quit. A boy with a yellow knit hat stood atop the play structure, shouting commands to the various array of children bustling about him, to which they replied with _'Yes sir!'_ and _'Aye aye captain!'_.

This was a normal day for Reid, or at least normal in a comical sense. Usually, after child or parent cases, he would come and watch the playground, as it never did cease to amaze him how... joyful the human mind could be.

It almost felt as though, by sitting on the bench, far away from the line of sight of happy families, he was watching over them.

A small smile grew on his face as he watched a mother call her daughter in, and the small girl wave to her all her new friends. They held hands as they walked on the sidewalk past him, and he heard the daughter ask her mother _'Can we come back tomorrow?'_ to which the mother replied _'Of course.'_

Reid sat for a few more moments, before looking at his watch, surprised to see how time had flown by. He sighed, giving one more glance towards the playground, then gathered up his book bag, (and his coffee mug), and headed down the sidewalk.

He was lost in thought throughout most of the walk home. So lost, in fact, that by the time he noticed he had passed his apartment, it was almost dark out. He shook his head, looked at his watch, and turned around, rushing back from the way he came. He had only gone so far however, before he heard his name. He hadn't heard it at first, just thinking it was someone calling in the distance, but then it sounded closer. Closer and more distinct.

 _Spencer_

Reid stopped abruptly, staring straight ahead. He waited to see if the name came again, before blinking and taking another couple steps forward.

 _Spencer_

This time Reid spun around, expecting to find someone following him or spying on him. Nothing.

 _Spencer!_

It came from right behind him, he knew that much, but he didn't have much time to think before he was jolted backwards off his feet, most likely from a taser. He landed on his back, groaning as the muscles in his body ached. Reid heard a chuckle from behind him, but as he tilted his head back to see who it was, a steel-toed boot collided with his forehead, causing him to yell out in pain.

He closed his eyes, pain ricocheting throughout his skull. He didn't know what was happening. What did he even do?

A pair of burly arms hoisted him onto his feet, though he could barely stand. A gloved hand clamped his mouth shut as a black bag was shove down over his head and tied behind his neck. The arms disappeared, and he toppled to the ground, unable to support his own body weight. Two people (men, it sounded like) chuckled from above him, then made a conversation unheard by Reid because of the ringing in his ears. He felt warm blood trickle down his face. He couldn't tell where it came from; most likely everywhere, as that's what it felt like.

He felt dizzy all of a sudden, and his vision was fading out. All he could see through the netting of the fabric were two pairs of black boots, each moving towards him. He moaned, earning a kick in the abdomen, knocking the breath out of him.

Someone grabbed his leg and began dragging him down the sidewalk. The pain of his head against the moving asphalt was immense, and he moaned again, this time soft enough to not be heard by his captures. Another man lifted him off the ground, placing him in what seemed to be the back of a van. He heard the doors shut, a pause, then the front two doors opening and closing. Again, a conversation started, but Reid's mind was in a different place. He wiggled his toes and felt only air, a sign that he was barefoot. He moved his foot, hitting something cold and... wet? The van jolted, sending Reid flying backwards into one of the walls.

With his head spinning, he leaned against the cold metal and thought about what his team would do when they found out he was missing. Would they look for him? Of course. Would they find him? Whether alive or dead, they would.

Would they make sure these bastards never see the light of day again? Absolutely.

-(O-O)-

Reid didn't know he'd passed out until he was jolted awake by the sudden pain in his left leg. His head lolled to one side, still covered by the dark bag. He was leaned up against some sort of concrete wall with his legs extended out in front of him. Reid could barely remember what had happened and the pain in his head had come back. He groaned softly, his head lolling back to the opposite side. Again, icy hot pain swept down his leg, this time his right. He refrained from making any noise or sudden movements, as if he were asleep. He heard someone sigh.

"I think he's passed out man." A gruff voice spoke. The man sounded like the submissive partner, from his lack of confidence.

"Well, then we'll just have to wake him up won't we?" A deeper voice spoke, closer this time. This man was most likely the one inflicting the pain.

The gruff voiced man grunted. "I-I don't know man. I mean, what if he doesn't wake up and you keep hittin' him? We're not supposed to ki-"

"My _god_ , Art, could you be anymore obnoxious?" The second man exclaimed. Through the netting of the woven bag, Reid saw the same two pairs of boots from before, one pair just in front of his legs. They boots began making their way, slowly, towards the other pair, which were farther back. "You see that?" There was a pause, in which Reid guessed the 1st partner was gesturing towards something. "That there is an FBI agent. An _FBI_ _agent_ , Art. Don't you think that if I were tryin' to kill 'em, I'd be a bit more... like you, Art?" There was a scrapping sound, to which the second UnSub, Art it sounded like, yelped in pain.

"Y-yes sir, Mr. Plano, sir. I'm just a bit, jittery, is all. I didn't mean for any-" This time, a loud _whack_ come from the two men's position. Reid grimaced as something, or someone, fell to the ground with a thump. Through the holes in the bag, Reid made out the shape of a large man spread eagle on the ground, with a slightly larger man knelt over him, holding some sort of long pipe.

"I suggest you never doubt me again, Arthur. That was just a warning."

The larger man, Mr. Plano, stood and grabbed Arthur arm, pulling him to his feet. Arthur stumbled around for a moment, before grabbing onto a nearby wall for balance. Mr. Plano re-gripped the metal pipe, then made for Reid.

The bag was pulled off his head, to which he could get a good look as to where he was. He looked to be in a basement, with concrete walls and four metal racks standing in the middle. Various items laid on the shelves- car engines, golf clubs, shards of mirrors, etc. There was a door in the corner of the wall closest to himself, and another in the middle of the opposite wall.

Reid looked up to Mr. Plano's staring face. He was an ugly man, with many grotesque scars and cuts on the left side of his face. His left eye was glazed over and looked spaced out.

Mr. Plano smiled down at Reid's bloody form. "Good morning, Doctor. It's nice for you to finally join us." He turned towards Arthur, who stood in the corner of the room cupping his head. "Art, why don't you go get our friend from the other room. I'm sure Dr. Reid will be very excited to see him." Arthur hesitated, then nodded, hurrying to the door across the room. He disappeared for a moment, then reemerged, this time dragging a limp body of a man, whose head was covered in a similar bag to Reid's. Arthur huffed as he laid the body down in front of him.

Mr. Plano chuckled as he nudged the body's torso. The man shifted and groaned.

"Well Dr. Reid, I think it's time for you to meet our guest." Plano mocked. He reached over and tore off the black head bag.

There, laying nearly lifeless on the cold, concrete ground, was his bloodied father.

Reid's eyes widened, unable to make a sound. William's eyes travel to his son's face.

Plano coughed, "Now that you two have been re-acquainted, I think it's time for a little payback."

The burly man raised his pipe and brought it down to collide with William Reid's abdomen. Spencer cried out as he watched his father struggle for air. Plano hit him again, this time up a few feet to his chest. Reid heard numerous bones crack, and his father began coughing blood.

The torture wound to an end, and Spencer watch as his father's eyes never left his own. As the life began to fade from them, and his body became limp, Spencer cried. The tears came without a sound, and washed some blood residue from his face.

Finally, William Reid turned his near lifeless eyes back towards his son, and said his last word.

"Spencer..."

-(O-O)-

 **I hope you all had a wonderful Fourth of July!**

 **-Byronsar**


End file.
